TALKING IT OVER
"I thought you didn't use a stove," remarked Jack, opening his eyes
in astonishment at the sight of the colonel's well-appointed kitchen.
"Why not?" asked the colonel, smiling at Jack's surprise. "I don't
sleep on the ground from choice, when I have a comfortable bed."
"But, you said--" continued Jack.
"This is a permanent headquarters," the colonel went on. "When I
go on a march I don't carry all these things with me. What we don't
have we get along without, as part of the day's task."
"That's a grand pair of horns on that elk's head," admired Rand,
who was looking at the trophies of the chase that hung on the walls.
"Isn't there a story that goes with that?"
"Not much of a story," replied the colonel. "It was killed on a trip
I made up in the Canadian Northwest, and it was a narrow escape for
me, too. It was killed by an arrow from one of those bows there."
"An arrow!" exclaimed Rand. "I didn't know that an elk could be
killed with an arrow."
"An arrow is as deadly as a bullet at short range," replied the
colonel. "You have read of the English archers and their famous
long-bows, haven't you?"
"And Robin Hood," put in Pepper.
"Robin Hood, of course," continued the colonel. "The Indians were
dangerous foes, too, even when they had nothing but their bows and
arrows."
"I wonder if I could learn to shoot with one of them," mused Rand,
drawing back one of the bows, a feat that required all of his
strength. "Say, boys, I've got an idea."
"Hold fast to it," counseled Donald. "You may no get another."
"Let's organize an Indian patrol, and we can carry bows and arrows."
"It might be worth thinking about," admitted Donald.
"That's what we wanted to talk to you about, colonel," said Jack,
"but I am afraid it's too late to take the matter up to-day."
"Why too late?"
"Because it is time we were starting for home," answered Jack.
"No trouble about that," replied the colonel. "I will walk back
with you, and we can talk it over as we go along. Let's see, there
are four of you here?"
"Yes, there are four of us," replied Pepper.
"Then you need two more to start with."
"Don't you lock your door when you go out?" was Jack's irrelevant
query when they were ready to start.
"Not usually," replied the colonel. "There is no one to bother us
up here in the woods. Do you think there is any need of it?" he
asked quizzically.
"I should think there was," declared Pepper, "if Monkey Rae is
about."
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted the colonel. "Giving me some
of my own advice, aren't you? Always be prepared. I don't know but
what I had better follow it."
Going back into the house he returned with a padlock with which he
fastened the door.
"There's Gerald Moore, he would join us," began Jack, taking up
the subject of the patrol again.
"Gerald Moore!" exclaimed Rand in a doubtful tone.
"What is the matter with him?" asked the colonel.
"He is the son of the janitor at the bank," replied Rand, "and--"
"Anything wrong about him?" continued the colonel.
"No," replied Rand, "but--"
"Oh!" said the colonel dryly, "I see. I suppose you all know the
scout law."
"Not yet," replied Jack. "Rand read it to us, but we haven't learned
it yet."
"Let me see," continued the colonel musingly, "how does number four
go?"
"It says," read Rand, "a scout is a friend to all and a brother to
every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs.
A scout accepts the other man as he finds him, and makes the best
of him."
The colonel made no comment, and the boys walked on in silence.
"I was wrong," acknowledged Rand after a little hesitation. "I have
no objection to Gerald."
"When we are going into battle, my boy," said the colonel, stopping
on the way for a moment, "we don't stop to consider to what class
the man who is fighting alongside of us belongs, and this is a
battle you are going into, one to make the most you can out of your
lives, and if you can help some one else at the same time so much
the greater is your reward."
"I see," replied Rand, "and I won't forget it."
"He was in our class, at school," went on Jack.
"He quotes poetry," added Pepper.
"Who does?" asked the colonel.
"Gerald."
"That's bad," said the colonel gravely, "but perhaps you could cure
him of it."
"He says he is descended from Tom Moore," continued Pepper.
"Well, we needn't hold that against him," suggested Donald. "It
was no altogether his fault."
"Then there's Dick Wilson," proposed Jack. "He was in our class,
too."
"All right," agreed the others, "it's Gerald and Dick."
"Very well, then," observed the colonel, "we will consider that
settled. When you are ready let me know and I will swear you in.
You know what you have to do?"
"Yes, sir," the boys answered.
By this time they came within sight of the landing where they had
left the boat, and Pepper, who had run on ahead, suddenly raised
such an outcry that the others rushed forward in alarm.
"What is the matter?" shouted Rand.
"The b-boat," stammered Pepper.
"What is the matter with it?" asked Donald.
"It's g-g-gone!"
"Gone! where?" demanded Jack.
"How should I know?" replied Pepper. "All I know is that it is
gone."
Sure enough, there was no boat to be seen.